The Old Man as illustrated by my Troll Artist friend!

Summoned: An Accidental Adventure –
Chapter 07
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~James~
The man in front of James could have come straight out of a Christian Dior commercial. If it was also mixed with a Star Wars Franchise movie that is.

Overly large alien eyes with white pupils and cobalt where the whites should be. No facial hair what-so-ever and sort of feathers instead of hair on his head. He was also tall and willowy. To make matters better James knew that as frustrated as he currently was he should not stare at the being. Rather attempt to properly repeat the gurgle clicks of their language.

More to the point, he had learned not to say anything in English while under the auspices of the alien looking creatures tutelage. Not that he had anything to complain about regarding anything as gauche as ‘alien’.

Sometime, a few local days ago, he had woken up in a heat of strange equipment. Under an strange sky in a body not his own. Aching like a car wreck victim he still had managed to extricate himself. He would not complain about his body. It was a great body. In prime condition. Far better than the heavyset one left in another world. Yet it was not exactly human. Close yes, but not quite. Analogous perhaps, all the same digits and limbs. In the same proportions no less. Yet he was sure it was cybernetic from the panel over his heart that looked like it belonged on Darth Vaders chest. As well as the metallic hash like marks on his forearms and calves. They bent and flexed as if flesh to a degree but when he tapped them they were definitely not made of tattooed skin.

It was the dusky rose skin and the soft ankle length hair that had strands as thick as thin wires that sealed the deal for him. He could even feel all along the hair, its surface as sensitive as the skin on his arms. Luckily he could also control it. Not well and it was something he was not yet willing to share with those he found himself with. It was easier to control as a mass in a braid but if he concentrated hard he could make the individual strands behave.

His instructor motioned at a ball and clicked twice. One low pitched one high with a nasal echo. James attempted it but could not quite get the nose effect. The failure gained a laugh. Sort of. Like a laugh was cut off right at the beginning by a figurative magical sword. At least laughter seemed to cross the language barrier. He attempted again, knowing that until he got it right he would be standing right there at a sort of parade rest.

Overall James had been treated well by whatever group had found him. They had clothed him in something like unpadded bicycle shorts and nothing else. As many of the strange menage creatures wore little clothing if anything he counted himself lucky for even that little bit. James considered his good circumstances here in this dream that just wouldn’t end. For if he was in his old body he may have found himself automatically one of the downtrodden slaves he had seen. Regular humans of exceptionally good looks seemed to be given a good place as an enslaved people. Anyone who was less than a perfect ten though was nearly unseen and did the most unpleasant tasks of the feudal-like fortress he found himself in.

Another conundrum that James had observed was that there was very little repetition of body features to the beings here. Though the humancentric appreciation of aesthetics was the most applicable one didn’t have to have the same number of limbs or even heads to fall under that aesthetic. The overall feel was that it was produced by a very high end budget Warner Brothers or Fox Studio’s television show. Yet this not quite anime wet dream come true reality wasn’t going away. Even when he went to sleep.

The first couple of days James had been here he had treated it with the bemused indifference of being in an ultra real lucid dream. By the morning of the third day worries began to set it.

Especially for his mother. He was not sure what she would do with him suddenly not there. Was he in a Coma and this was just a Coma dream? Dead and waiting for the next life? Was it purposeful or was he here by accident. Nothing really made sense. All he could do was to play along for now.

At least they had pushed the language lesons on him. It would have been something he would have wanted regardless, but this simplified things for him greatly.

All this was in the back of his mind as he valiantly attempted to say ‘Ball’ or perhaps it was ‘Sphere’ in their language.

The teacher seemed to finally have enough and a long taloned arm snaked out and slashed his shoulder viciously.

“No -x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x- Bad -x-x-x-x- -x-x-x-x- -x- -x-x-x-x-x-x-x- Bad -x-x-x-x-x-x- -x-x- -x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x- -x-x-x-x- -x- Again.”

Only the three words made some sort of sense. At least he had figured them out… roughly. Instead of lashing out or defending himself he stood there as his shoulder bled. He attempted ‘Ball’ once more. He would heal shortly without blemish, one of the gifts of this body. He didn’t know if there were others and he was sure there must be some. Eventually he would figure it all out, after all it seemed as if he would have plenty of time here in this other worldly place.

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~The Old Summoneer~
It amazed him at times how thick headed or inexperienced the young Spirit Matrice that now inhabited Angelica’s body was. This day she was once again failing to grasp some of the most basic controls of her Enhanced Crafted Combat Systems wetware. However he did admit to himself that most of it was due to the communications issue between the two of them. He was not about to tell her that though. Even if she could understand him.

Unfortunately she was also unduly modest, pig headed, aggressive, abrasive, arrogant, and head strong. Just like Angelica had been when she had been pure human genotype. He sighed to himself at that memory from all those cycles ago. Another life, both better and worse. He did need to work on her modesty though. There were very few armors that could keep up with the abuse she could put out when she opened herself up.

After much gesticulating and eventual breakdown of the initial language barrier he had amusedly come to the conclusion that new Matrice belonged to a young man. As sad as he was to lose his old friend and adoptive daughter he was gladdened to have not had his work go completely to waste. Perhaps he would be able to gather the six others and find out who inhabited each physical shell.

The name too…. Pronounced with far to much tongue and lip noises. Only some of the most remote island nations came close to the sounds. If he attempted to say her full name it sounded to him as if he was mumbling ‘Snake Bite’ with a broken jaw while being electrocuted. It also seemed that if he wasn’t careful with the strange throat holler at the early part of her name it would sound young girls scream to her. At least they had discovered how to say her name in the trade language he was slowly teaching her. Though there was no proper translation for it. Closest analogue to it was ‘Enjoyable to discover’ but he supposed that was good enough.

He chuckled at a thought. She should be glad that he had not been malicious enough to teach her that her name and Shithead were the same. But he wouldn’t do that to Angelica’s Shell, especially as he was confident that though her memories were gone that the child inside was so close in resonance as to practically be her.

It had now been half a cycle of days since he had recovered from his blunder. The first two of which had been… interesting. The Old Summoner regretted his hasty actions of dumping his ritual chamber. It had taken him over a full sixteen solar cycles to build and had lasted well over a hundred. The location had been instrumental in several successful campaigns against the encroachment of the various Demon Lords and their corruption of sentient beings on this planet.

With the chamber gone and the way he had designed the purge system to work there was no way to quickly find everything that had been lost. It was all spread to the various corners of the world. Scattered beyond the winds.

Now his first concern was to get Battles Mistress back up to her old standard and track her companions down. On this there seemed to still be some communication issues. As she claimed it was only four others that came through with her even though only two had awoken by the time he recovered. There had been Seven Matrices to account for though. Seven bodies, seven generals, seven peoples to be raised back up in the fight against all that had befouled this world. So he traveled with the woman he had come to know as Enjoyable to Discover or the bastardization of Neeeeekckckkee. She claimed that only her four other friends were there. That she could not figure out that there were supposed to be seven. Of course, half of that was figured out through use of finger waiving, drawing in the earth at their feet, wild waving of arms (mostly on her part) and otherwise. He knew that the systems he had deployed would have garnished all the matrices from the same quantum plane. It was the double-edged sword of the safety feature.

Which meant that there would be two more individuals who woke up residing in shells that were not what they remembered. Yet they would become who the shells were in originality once they had inhabited them long enough. Maybe not in memory but in action and fact.

“Hell stringent linen yellowed flower.”

He sighed again at her butchering of the common tongue. At least she had properly enunciated the proper clicks necessary for the words. If in a really poor accent. However, she really got the words wrong and the structure emphasis changed the entire meaning of what he was pretty sure she was attempting to state. She was standing upside down on her hands. She had been that way for almost a full sixteenth of a day cycle.

The two of them had an interesting conversation on that as well. The primary numeral check here for math and technology had been based on sixteen rather than ten, which is what the old math had used many thousands of cycles ago. They had transitioned as a logical progression as quantum based technology came to the fore. It allowed for much finer calculations and prediction matrix’s that were less prone to data leakages as they progressed. The time units had been adjusted around the same time in that ancient epoch. Each day broken into sixteen parts and each of those into sixteen partial. Then each broken up into sixteen microcycles.

When Battles Mistress, who still refused to use her forms proper name, explained about their time measurement systems the Old Summoner had almost broken out into hysterical laughter.

To think that she was from such a world that still was stuck counting high level problems on units of measurements based on their fingers and toes. It was pure folly.

She was glaring at him as he recollected on the various units of time. Finally he deigned to answer. One had to maintain the proper master and student relationships after all.

“If you must call me an ‘Old Geezer’ then do so Right.” He punctuated his statement with a line of kinetic energy along the molecular rail that his Artifice stretched between his pointed finger and her sensitive pelvic bone. He knew exactly how much that would smart and distract the tall woman.

With a squawking sound much like that of an injured avian hybrid she whipsawed her legs around attempting in vain to recover from the sudden pressure. To say nothing of the sudden sting of the invisible strike. The attack would likely have felt to her as if he had hit her with a small sharp metal tool that had a sizable amount of force behind it.

It was one of the first quantum tricks that almost all Summoners learned. They were often the recipient of frequent kinetic strikes until they learned both the skill and its corresponding defense.

The strawberry haired warrior failed to maintain her balance after several valiant attempts and fell to the ground. The green markings along her back illuminated from within and projected outwards into the first of Angelica Pentel’s twenty three Wings of Battle.

“Bad health old jumbo. Fair no you playful.” She shot back angrily as she jumped up. The dark otherworldly glow of the Combat Construct stretching out from her back showing death to any who would dare to challenge her, Battles Mistress. They pulled her up off the ground briefly as the two large knife sharded planes of planar energy flapped as if wings in real they were.

“And you have ruined another top.” Listening to her was sometimes like nails scraping along a stone drawing tablet. She was improving at least.

She calmed down as she looked downwards at the shirt that was now just one good breath from falling off. It was one of the many she had insisted on making after they had come across a traveling merchant with some bolts of cloth. Her first wings had shredded the back clear as they deployed upon the field.

He laughed at her disgruntled expression.

Angelica grunted something rude under her breath and ripped the tatters off before concentrating on pulling the wings back within her body. She rummaged around in her pack and pulled a replacement out.

“Specify ruin… prevent.. errrruuhhmm…. Prevent…” She snapped her fingers in that odd manner she used to help her remember words. “Prevent Action?”

“You mean, ‘How did the first Angelica prevent her clothes from being destroyed?’”

She nodded and donned the new shirt snugging it into place with that odd expression she used whenever mentally filing away information. Which of course she had to do until she learned more of her bodies enhancement controls.

“The old Angelica would wreath herself in her Power. It covered her at any and all times she would will it.”

They had to repeat that back and forth a few time still she managed to snort derisively at his answer. She went back to her handstand, she was now able to hold it nearly indefinitely. Unless distracted. Which was one of the things he was working on.

“Just so ‘Gelica Wings out All?”

“Not all the time. We do not care about body coverings as much as you seem to, but we still would cover if needed.”

A pause for a while as she processed his answer. Likely to make sure that she understood it. “Then Cloak. Why?”

“My cloak?” He looked down and pulled some of it away from his body, enough for her to see that many of the parts of his bodies Artifice was integrated into his robe and cloak. They were as much an extension of him now as his own limbs.

The more Artifice scaffolding he incorporated into his core meant that he needed more synthetics and 'other' biologics as well. It was one of the sacrifices one made if one wished to become ‘more’ than the standard sapient on the planet. Each type of enhancement, change, or creation had its mark on the body and spirit. Most Summoners end up something like him as all of their coverings were part of the Artifice Scaffolding needed to extend of themselves to effect the Aethers and the Quantum reality left in the wake of the Fall. Where as one like Angelica utilized a far more direct power than he ever could.

Angelica wrinkled her nose at the sight he had presented to her, then she made one of her long throated not quite howls that he had learned meant disgust. In response to her impudent expression, he levied a kinetic strike to her left knee. She was more ready this time and managed to keep her position.

“Why downside up?”

He was able to understand her a lot more now. He was even beginning to learn some basic phrases in her Eeengleeshshsh. Which never translated well it seemed. Such odd tongue noises for a language.

“Because it is enjoyable to me. You look funny like that after all.” He chuckled internally as he spoke. He knew exactly how his statement would affect her and her likely reaction.

She reverted back to her native language and let out a stream of rapid-fire words. Likely cursing him as she dropped to the ground before flip kicking back up towards him. As her foot was closing on his body he gave his Artifice a command and stepped backwards into the inbetween. The inbetween was not actually a time or a place. Rather it existed a few moments out of phase behind actual time. Sort of like existing in the wake of time, like traveling in the draft of a large vessel breaking the barrier of sound.

As such, he was not really seeing his Ward search for him, rather he was watching what she had done a few moments prior. The after images of the movements of her actions. The trick to finding someone hiding in the inbetween was to look Through. An ability that Angelica had, but needed to relearn.

Since is appeared that she learned best when he annoyed her it was a good thing for the Old Man that he did enjoy being a crotchety old geezer at time. Her poorly translated words no less, not his.

Later that evening, a good ways where they had stopped to train, they sat around a fire. He had procured a pot out of his own personal tesseract. It was over the cooking fire with some water inside for a tisane. There were several sticks with a small land born rodent that he always forgot the name of impaled and cooking on them. At least the critters were reasonably tasty.

“Shunt flew.. why?” His companion asked after being silent for a time.

Her face wasn’t quite shadowed by the fire and darkening sky yet. He still got the impression of something hooded around her. Seemed that she was also getting her anger under better control regarding her specific question.

“I thought the Void had taken you.” He could tell from her expression that with her limited vocabulary she still could not quite understand. “Void. The Beyond. Darkness. Demon place. Thought you were possessed by it.”

She nodded as comprehension seemed to finally got through the language barrier. “You thought me,” she paused then rattled of another string of unintelligible words. He let her continue as she spoke to herself. “Bad? Wrong? Circle.. no circle not…” She was almost crosseyed trying to figure out what to say. “Not good. Void… Evile! You think me Evile!”

He nodded, before correcting the pronunciation. He was impressed, he wasn’t sure he had taught her that word yet.

“Sucks that. Wish waited.” She continued on her thought as she poked at the fire with a stick.

Depressing for both of them as that answer was, at least they were making forward progress.

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End Chapter 07

Language Barriers dropping, moving forward beginning. Time to travel along and find out more of what is going on!

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